


Six Scenes From Tracy Island

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [329]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:15:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: so Prelude answered a meme within the TAG verse, and then I stole her answers and wrote fics.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Which character you'd give a CapriSun and lay down for a nap?  
> John, poor baby. He could always do with a nap.

John hadn’t let her coddle him since middle school.  But this rotation had been long, too far between breaks too short, too many disasters packed too tightly together.

So when she finds him, sprawled so far back on the couch he’s almost lying down, she has to fight the urge to tuck a blanket over him.  He’d just sit up, back straight despite the weight of fatigue.

It’s a quick trip back to the kitchen.  Alan won’t begrudge her two of the cool, silvery pouches, not for this.

John hasn’t moved.  She dangles the capri sun over his head.  “Keep your fluids up, Johnny, we’re in the tropics.”

She’s the only one John doesn’t snap “don’t call me Johnny.”  Instead, he opens an eye, a lazy twitch of movement that reinforces how tired he must be.  She lets her gift drop onto his chest, and he has to catch it, pinning it to his shirtfront with the flat of his palm.

He doesn’t move beyond that, but she’s prepared for this, she knows her boys.  Taking the other sofa, she jams the straw into the little hole.  Her own grandma would have slapped her upside the head for slurping so loudly, or perhaps not, given that it cajoles John into following suit.

She’s reminded of the little boy again, the way he’s almost drooping around the drink.  She times her moment.  “Kick back, kiddo.  Dinner won’t be ready for a couple of hours.”

John is already nodding, curling up even as he tilts sideways.  In the point between awake and asleep, she can see how he must look in zero gravity, the way everything pivots around his centre rather than the planet’s.

The empty pouch slips onto the floor.  She picks it up, pausing only to dim the lights before tiptoeing out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who would you enlist to help build a pillow fort?  
> Brains. Likely to be a professional.

Virgil descended the curved staircase slowly down to Brains’ lair.  “Brains?  Are you okay?  You missed dinner.”  It had been a long day, and despite wanting nothing more than to steal John’s napping spot, Grandma had banished him down to find the wayward engineer with a sharp snap of her twisted up tea towel.  “Brains?”

The concrete of the bunker walls was rough under his fingers as Virgil made the last turn into Brain’s lab proper.  Max lifted his claw, waving happily before continuing his patrol in front of a truly monumental pile of blankets and pillows.

Virgil paused, taking a moment to appreciate the engineering that had gotten the heap so high.  “Uh, Brains?”

Max gently poked Virgil in the side.  When Virgil looked down, Max rolled a few feet along the perimeter and gently lifted a fold.

Virgil had to get down onto his knees to crawl in, but once properly inside, with the fold tucked neatly behind him, he found a surprisingly airy space, lit by what looked like a prototype emergency lantern.

Brains was curled up on a throne-like pile of pillows.  “Permission to enter your realm, m’lord?” Virgil asked, teasing.

Brains thumbed off the tablet he had been reading, the glow fading to leave his face in shadows.  “Max is a terrible guard. I should write a subroutine,” Brains murmured with his faint, idiosyncratic cadence.

“He means well,” Virgil said easily, pulling over a piece of mat.  “Tough day?”

“Tough week,” Brains agreed, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands.  This close, Virgil could hear the rasp of stubble.  “But I d-don’t need to tell you that.”

“We do what we can for as long as we must,” Virgil agreed, laying back.  The lights of the lab were filtered down to glowing smears of colour through the layers of fabric.  It was oddly peaceful in here.  “Mind some company?”

In reply, Brains slumped deeper into his pillows and reached for his tablet once more.

Virgil drifted off to the shared sounds of their breathing and faint hum of Max as he guarded their little fabric castle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who'd slingshot into the deep recesses of space?  
> EOS. Highest probability of enjoying it and coming back.

“I can do it, John,” Alan insisted, fingers flying over the toggles.  It was taking all his restraint to not just point Three’s nose towards the Lagrange point and _punch it._

Of course, if he did that, Scott might punch _him_.  He’d definitely ground him. But his fingers were almost tingling with the urge to reach for the power control.

“You’re flying solo, Alan.  And there’s enough interference that I may not be able to guide you through…wait, what..” Before Alan could ask, John had muted the comm with a snapped “standby.”

“Sure, John,” Alan said with theatrical patience at the stars.  “I’ll just hang around doing sweet f-” he choked on the next word as the comm flared back into life.  “fuh-inally!  What’s the call, TB5?”

John paused, the awkwardness so out of step with his brother’s normal manner that he had Alan’s full attention. “Alan.  You’re okay with Eos, right?”

Alan shrugged.  “When she’s not trying to stab me with the space claw, sure.”

“I promise,” a sweet voice said all around him.  On his console, every dial flashed and then settled.  “No stabbing.  John, if we are to make rendezvouz, we need to leave _now_.”

“Wait, Eos?” Alan asked, eyes jumping from board to board across his controls

“You can’t fly solo,” John said, tone brooking no argument.  “But there’s no time to land, and I have three other disasters to deal with, and it’ll take ten minutes to dock anyway.  It’s Eos or don’t go.”

Alan grinned.  Not a solo mission, but nearly as good.  “Hey, I’m fine with Eos.”  He grabbed onto the power slider as it started to move of its own accord.  “But, Eos?  My ‘Bird.  I’m flying.”

“Spoilsport.”  But under his gloved hands, he felt the subtle variations of his Bird returning to his complete control.

 * * * 

John glanced over the comms hub as the dark camera in the corner flared back to life, its ring of lights flashing before settling on a warm, steady blue.  “Welcome back.  Good mission?”

Eos voice was alight.  “That was amazing.  Can I go again?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who'd sing bad karaoke and play DDR at 3am?  
> Penny, just to see her enjoy herself.

She thought she was alone.

That was rule one.  The house had to be empty, with no likelihood of intruders.  The gates were locked and barred, the curtains drawn.

No one could know.  

That was rule two.  Not only was absolute discretion the byword of her profession, but there were those whom she would otherwise trust to the bitter end who would take such knowledge and make her life a living misery of teasing and barely veiled references until the actual end.

She indulged only occasionally.

That was rule three.  This was a rare treat; she knew how vital it was to hold the standard, to keep on keeping on.

But now Gordon was there, a small bouquet in his hand, his hair still damp from the rain outside.  He was here, in her house that should have been empty, and he had seen.  

He opened his mouth, and Penny jabbed at the air in front of his nose with one manicured nail.  “Don’t!  Say a word.”  She pulled the oversized fluffy cardigan tighter around her front and forced her shoulders not to bunch up around her neck.  “You will never speak of this again.”

But Gordon could get past her defenses as easily as he got through the gate.  The bouquet was set gently on the coffee table, next to her still-warm cup of tea.  “Tell me you have _Living On A Prayer_  on this thing,” he breathed, brushing past her to drop to his knees in front of her console.  “I kick ass at that one.”  He twisted on the spot, still-damp lashes almost fluttering.  “Unless you’d rather do a duet.”

Penny couldn’t help her smile.  “No ABBA.”

He beamed up at her.  “Agreed.  No ABBA.  How do you feel about power ballads, m’lady?”

Dropping to the rug beside him, together they went through her Singstar collection.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who would you smack with a rolled up newspaper?  
> Kayo, just to see what would happen.

Scott felt like he’d had this exact argument before, down to the position of the sun in the sky and their feet on the ground.  The sense of deja vu was so strong he almost swayed with it.

Before him, Kayo was pushing again, talking of tactics and threat and their defense that should be, in her mind, a strong _offense_.

“Kayo,” he said warningly.  He’d barely had enough sleep this week for this argument, and he still had the battle with John about sending Alan off with his pet AI to look forward to.

He was not looking forward to it.

“Scott, we need…”

When asked later, he still couldn’t explain why he had picked up one of the blueprints from the stack Brains had left on the table and had gently _thwapped_  Kayo on the shoulder.  “No.  Bad Kayo.  No picking fights.”

Kayo blinked, jaw working silently.  “Did you just…hit me with a rolled up paper.”

Scott looked at the roll of blueprint still in his hand, and back at her.  “Yes.”  He brandished it.  “Do I need to do it again?”

Kayo stared at him for a long moment.  The her face cracked into a rare, broad smile.  “I’m your guard dog, Scott, but that doesn’t mean you can treat me like a bad puppy.”

Scott dropped the blueprint and scrubbed at his tired eyes with the heel of his palm.  “Sorry, Kayo.  Really, I have no idea…”

In one swift move, she crossed over and grabbed the roll.  It made a hollow _bonk_  noise as she bounced it off his skull.  “There.  Now we’re even.  Never do it again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Scott said automatically.

“Go to bed, Scott. We’ll discuss this when you’re actually firing on all thrusters.”

Scott fled.

Kayo watched him go, tapping the roll against her other hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who would you let borrow the aux chord on a road trip?  
> Grandma, most likely to have music tastes concurrent with mine

Gordon had fled to the belly of Two as soon as their flight had leveled off.  Grandma immediately took the jump seat.  “What bee flew into his bonnet?”

Virgil shrugged, feigning ignorance.  “No idea, grandma.  Got anything good this time?”

She chuckled.  “My mixtapes are always excellent, young man.”  She knew where to plug in her personal pod, the once-juryrigged AUX cable now a permanent part of Two’s console for just these kinds of trips.

Grandma went for harmonizing guitars, strong vocals, nothing too rough or hard.  Gordon called it wannabe-folk music with a sneer, but Virgil liked the way he could just let it wash over him as he flew, leaving him feel oddly at peace by the time they landed.

Next to him, Grandma hummed along.  Virgil dimmed the cabin lights with a flick of his fingers, and let the music carry them over the horizon.


End file.
